


Dash 51

by ridiculouslyhappy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Did this for fun, Short One Shot, Written in Class, bored in class, no beta we die like men, not good with titles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 16:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ridiculouslyhappy/pseuds/ridiculouslyhappy
Summary: Hank wants to know why Connor is the only android with a dash behind his serial number.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 149





	Dash 51

"Hey Connor, I've been meaning to ask-"

Connor looked up from his terminal, fingers halting in the middle of his sentence. He really could just telekinetically sync up to the monitor, but he thought this would be a nice day to use his hands instead of his head.

He was still doing well on time. In fact, he had been wrapping up his sixth report just now, finishing the other five within the last hour and a half.

Efficient, just the way he liked it.

Hank was the only person he'd ever stop typing for, eager to give his unwavering attention to the disgruntled detective. The man took a swig of his coffee, face twisting in disgust upon finding out that it was cold. He swallowed it- not without making a face- and turned back to the android.

"What's up with that little dash you have?"

Connor, even though he knew what he was talking about, still looked down to his jacket. He was still wearing the standard issued Cyberlife uniform, despite being allowed to try other things now. Even if he wanted to replace his uniform, he hadn't had the time, and if he were to be honest, he'd rather wear something familiar.

The numbers glowed brightly under his model number. He looked back up.

"You mean the hyphen on my serial number, correct?"

"Yeah, that one." Hank nodded. He jerked his head across the office, motioning to the other android receptionists and officers that were milling about at the moment. "I've been looking at the ones who still have the uniform on, and you're the only guy with a dash."

"Oh." Connor let his eyes travel over the office before looking back to Hank, who tossed his old coffee into the wastebasket. "That's because all of the other androids here are commercial models. I'm a prototype, remember?"

"Yeah, you told me the first four times you met me," Hank snorted, but was still attentive to the detective. He took that as a sign to continue on.

"It's simply a number used to indicate how many models the RK800 line has been through."

"Wait," Hank leaned forward, eyebrows nearly disappearing behind his shaggy grey strands. "Used? You mean you've gone through _fifty one_ of you?"

He thought about that for a moment. He couldn't help but crinkle his eyebrows.

"Not exactly. Any time my predecessor would fail testing or be otherwise shutdown, a new prototype would come along to replace it, and its recorded data, such as memories, would be transferred into the next model."

"So you died fifty times."

"No, the _RK800_ died fifty times," he corrected, pointing a finger. "Each RK800 model is different, each with its own experiences and recollections. I'm just the first one to live."

Hank shook his head. "Fuck, that's morbid."

"Indeed it is." There was a twinkle in his eye, and he turned towards the older man, a playful grin dancing on his lips. "I suppose it was a good thing I never needed to be replaced during a mission. Otherwise, I would have never met you."

Connor tried to use humor to make light of the situation, but the Lieutenant wasn't laughing.


End file.
